PROFESSIONAL GUINEA-PIGS

Big Pharma on the prowl, like Kalahari lions

slinking across the Serengeti Plains zeroing

in on vulnerable prey.

Metacorporate’s clawed paws corral bodies for sale,

in the din of dim train stations or shivering in doorways.

Undocumented immigrants will also do,

“altruistic volunteers” sign consent forms

they cannot understand.

Like CO’s in War, black sharecroppers in Tuskegee

and hapless patients of the torments of Dr. Mengele,

they’re victimized canaries in the coal mines.

Faces are sprayed with allergens damaging skin and eyes.

They spurt bloody noses, endure rectal probes that agonize

and bladder catheters that leave them leaking brownish-red

like rusty sinks with worn out washers.

Injected with viruses, sleep deprived for days,

defecating in little baskets for weeks on end,

they endure starvation diets, gagging at the sight

of cookies and cheese-doodles, a proffered reward.

Can payments compensate for missing toes and fingers,

chronic disease and suicide?

In the shadowy jungle of outsourced research

results are hustled to a slick sales force who pitch

med samples of flawed studies to busy Docs.

TV blathers hypnotic ads selling drugs

like last century’s patent medicine man.

Human kind

cannot bear very much reality.

Class action suits still victim’s voices.

Dark shadows envelop the tactics of Big Pharma

making it hard to believe that man is naturally good.